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Primitive religion is not believed, it is danced!

Arthur Darby Nock

Earth's crammed with heaven,
And every common bush afire with God;
And only he who sees takes off his shoes;
The rest sit round it and pluck blackberries.

Elizabeth Browning



Wednesday, December 14, 2022

RAIN

Last night

the rain

spoke to me

slowly, saying,

 

what joy

to come falling

out of the brisk cloud,

to be happy again

 

in a new way

on the earth!

That’s what it said

as it dropped…

          Mary Oliver

__________________________________________

 

dry

the dryness of the high desert

where I have lived among the sagebrush and juniper

 

where alkaline earth cracks in the summer sun

and blue skies are eternity

 

dry

the devastating months and years of drought

sucking life out of the soil

emptying the rivers

leaving famine in its wake

 

dry

those moments when you have gone too far

too fast

too long

when your soul is withered and cracked

and even the plentiful feast of grace

tastes like sawdust in your mouth

 

we all spend time in the desert

in those places where we are stretched thin

where parched we long to feel the rain

fall on barren ground

 

where we wait

eyes straining as we gaze at a perpetually blue sky

where the sun blazes unrelentingly,

waiting for a sign

for one little cloud

for rain

 

how we long for rain

to smell the dust, damp

to feel the air full of moisture

to see the clouds roll in, their blackness not threatening

but promising

 

we all spend time in the desert

where thirsty we long for springs of living water

welling up within our souls

 

where we wait for that sense of Sacred presence

to come down and drench the earth

with transformation

 

Oh, heavens above,

rain down righteousness;

let the clouds shower down love and hope, peace and joy

 

Let the earth open wide,

Let our hearts open wide

receiving the gift

letting it soak us, fill us

 

until salvation springs up,

out of our dry souls (Isaiah 45)

 

O Lord,

Advent here

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